


Two-Man-Team Christmas Day

by Ytteb



Series: Two-Man-Team-Day [3]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 09:16:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17139095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ytteb/pseuds/Ytteb
Summary: Another story where Tony and Gibbs are on their own in the squad room - only this time it's Christmas Day. Pure fluff and nonsense for Christmas!





	Two-Man-Team Christmas Day

**Author's Note:**

> A seasonal Two-Man-Team-Day story – I don’t think it will matter if you haven’t read the others … pure silliness!

“Boss, are you sure you can manage without me?” asked Special Agent Timothy McGee.  His coat was on and his backpack slung on one shoulder: it seemed a rhetorical question.

“Yes,” said Gibbs.

“I’ve got the last search running … all you have to do is wait until you hear the _ping´_ and then you can save the results.  I’ve written the instructions down …”

“You’ve already told me,” said Gibbs.  “Six times.”

“It’s really simple …”

“ _Six_ times, McGee …”

“Yes, of course, Boss.  I didn’t mean to imply … it’s just that …”

“You gonna make it _seven_ times, McGee?”

“No, Boss.  Of course not, Boss.  I could stay if you want …”

“Tim, I thought this was a big celebration?  Your Mom’s coming, Sarah’s coming, Delilah’s family …”

“Yes, Boss.  And Penelope’s coming too.”

“So, it’s a big deal?”

“Well …”

“Then you should be going.  DiNozzo and I can manage.”

“Are …”

“Yes, I’m sure.  Now go, before I change my mind.”

“Yes, Boss.  Er, Delilah made you … and Tony … a cake,” McGee produced a somewhat battered cardboard box from under his desk.”

Gibbs looked interested for a moment.

“Don’t worry,” said McGee hastily, “She didn’t frost it or anything.  We reckoned you wouldn’t want a really Christmassy cake.  Not really your thing, is it?”

Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

Tim wasn’t sure how to interpret the raised eyebrow; he wasn’t as fluent in Gibbs facial tics as Tony and Abby.  “Right,” he said, “Well, have a good one, Boss.  Tony … what the …?”  The exclamation came as he saw Tony DiNozzo emerge from the elevator pushing the mail trolley full of cardboard boxes.

“McYourestillhere,” said Tony, “Why _areyoustillhere?_   Haven’t you got a bevy of beauties waiting for you?”

“Why have you got all those boxes?” asked McGee.

“Er … they’ve got … cold cases in,” said Tony.

“But …” began McGee.

“We’re going to be _working_ , McGee,” said Gibbs coolly.

“Of course, Boss … I didn’t mean to imply that …”

“Give my best to Penelope,” said Tony with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows.

Tim suppressed a groan; sometimes he had nightmares in which Penelope was twenty years younger, Tony was twenty years older and the two got together to give McGee an unlikely step-grandfather.

“I was just telling the Boss that when the search …”

“ _Eight_ times?” said Gibbs disapprovingly.

“No, Boss.  I just …”

“It’s coming on to snow,” said Tony helpfully, “You’d better leave now, or you’ll be stuck here for the holiday …,” he looked meaningfully at the boxes in a way that suggested a lot of boring work awaited any agents marooned in the office.

“I’m going,” announced McGee, “But …”

“But?” asked Gibbs in a threatening tone.

“But I just wanted to tell Tony that Delilah and I have made a decision.”

“Yes?” asked Tony.

“When we get married …” he paused, took a deep breath and said, “I’ve decided that I’ll take her name …”

“Delilah?” asked Tony.

“No,” said Tim firmly, “I’m going to be Tim Fielding.”

“But …” said Tony, “… that means …”

“That’s right, Tony.  No more mcnicknames … Happy Christmas!”  Tim swept past a stunned Tony.

“No more mcnicknames,” groaned Tony as he groped his way to his chair and sat down, “What will I do?”

“Reckon you’ll think of something,” said Gibbs drily.

Tony stared forlornly into space for a few seconds and then seemed to pull himself together, “That’s the spirit, Boss.  This isn’t a problem … it’s an opportunity … a challenge.”

“You been listening to McGee’s self-help CDs again?” asked Gibbs astutely.

“They make good coasters,” said Tony defensively.

Further conversation was forestalled by the arrival of Director Vance,

“Gentlemen, I want to thank you both for agreeing to come to work on Christmas Day … especially as you’ve been on duty overnight as well.”

Gibbs and Tony shrugged in a mixture of modesty and indifference.

“Although, of course, you do both have the rest of the week off,” mused Vance, “HR are delighted to see that you’re using up some of those vacation days.”

Gibbs and Tony shrugged again.

“Agent DiNozzo, Agent McGee told me that you’re going to Tallahassee for a …”

“Turkey taco and tinsel treat extravaganza,” supplied Tony.

“Hmm, well, enjoy yourself,” said the Director with a slightly pained expression on his face, “And you, Gibbs … whatever you’re doing, have a good one.”

“Thank you, Director,” said Gibbs blandly and then added a little belatedly, “Have a good Christmas yourself.”

“I will,” promised the Director, he cast a knowing look at the boxes, “Looks like you’re going to be busy!”  There was a suspicion of a wink and then he was gone.

“Turkey taco and tinsel treat extravaganza?” queried Gibbs.

“In Tallahassee,” confirmed Tony, “At least, that’s what the brochure said.”

“The brochure you left lying on your desk all last week?”

Tony shrugged and then caught sight of the battered box on Gibbs’ desk, “What’s that?” he asked as he came forward.

“Delilah made us a cake,” said Gibbs.  “I think it’s meant to cheer us up for having to work Christmas Day.”

“She has met us, hasn’t she?  She does know that we work Christmas Day more often than not?”

It was Gibbs’ turn to shrug.  He lifted the lid of the box and they both peered in,

“Oh,” said Tony, “It looks like the Grinch-stole-Christmas cake.”

“Tim said she didn’t want to make it look too festive.”

“Well, I’d say she succeeded there,” announced Tony.

“It’s the thought that counts,” said Gibbs benignly.

“I guess,” said Tony doubtfully, “I’m just not sure what the thought is.”

“How hard is it snowing out there?” asked Gibbs leaving Tony to ponder the fruit cake.

“Pretty hard,” said Tony, “I don’t think anyone’s going to make it here now,” he paused and looked around the empty squad room, “And I don’t think any of us will be leaving until it stops snowing.”

“Huh,” said Gibbs, “Guess we’d better start work on those cold cases then.”

Tony and Gibbs stared at each other for a few seconds but then both collapsed into laughter.

“What you got in those boxes then, Tony?” he asked.

Tony swept the top box off with a grand gesture, “The decorations!  And you’ll be happy to know that the glitter ball has survived intact!”

“Good,” said Gibbs as he took the box and began to rummage, “Wonder if the lights will work first time?”

“Sort of traditional that they don’t,” said Tony, “Part of the fun is working out which one which needs tightening.”

“Then you can do that,” ordered Gibbs, “As you like doing it.”

“OK,” said Tony agreeably, “Then you put the glitterball up.  You know I don’t really care for heights.”

“You could tell McGee,” said Gibbs mildly.

Tony shuddered, “Thin end of the wedge, Boss.  I’d have to admit that I get travel sick, don’t date a different girl every day and …”

“And that your frat brothers are all highly responsible model citizens and you don’t run amok when you meet up for Spring Break?”

“Like I said, Boss – thin end of the wedge.  Who knows what it might lead to?”

Gibbs shook his head but decided, as it was the season of goodwill, not to pursue the subject.  “You can blow up the tree,” he said.

“You know, that sounds much worse than it is,” said Tony as he pulled the inflatable tree out of the box, “It’s too bad that we can’t bring in a real tree.”

“Perhaps next year,” said Gibbs soothingly.

With the two of them working in harmony, the squad room was soon looking wonderfully Christmassy.  They stood back and admired their handiwork,

“Percy says he wants to come and have a look,” said Tony.

“Least we can do,” said Gibbs tolerantly, “Seeing as he stores the decorations for us.”

“What about some music?” said Tony.  You choose.”

“How about “Deck the Halls with Boughs of Holly?” suggested Gibbs.

“Seems appropriate,” said Tony as he looked around the bedecked halls.  “I’ll put carols on a loop, shall I?”

“Sure,” said Gibbs rubbing his hands as he contemplated the other boxes.  “Must be time for something to eat.  What did you bring?”

“Well,” said Tony scornfully, “A _proper_ Christmas cake for one thing,” he handed a box to Gibbs who opened the lid and chuckled,

“Well, that’s a cake that’s well and truly frosted,” he said as he lifted out a beautifully decorated cake.

“That’s supposed to be your cabin,” said Tony a little shyly as he pointed to a log cabin made out of chocolate covered thin cookies.

“That’s great, Tony,” said Gibbs.  He looked reverently at the cake and then asked greedily, “What else?”

“I brought my chocolate fountain in from home.  Some really dark bitter chocolate for me … and some white chocolate for you.  I’ve got some biscotti to dunk and I’ve got strawberries and morello cherries for you.”

“Ahh,” said Gibbs in a tone of bliss.

“There’s a flask of hot chocolate in the rest room,” continued Tony, “And some of that whipped cream that comes squirting out of the can to go on top …”

“Marshmallows?”

“Did you doubt me?” asked Tony in mock distress.

“Sorry,” said Gibbs, “I should have known.  What did you bring for yourself?”

“I’ve got some extra strong coffee with bitter mocha.  I might use some of your cream …”

“Sure.”

“And I brought some sandwiches … turkey, cranberry and salami; beef, horseradish and extra mustard … and some cold pizza.”

“Good work,” praised Gibbs.  “Jackson’s neighbour sent me the usual care package …”

Tony’s eyes lit up, “She make some of that candy?”

“Yep, salted caramel fudge, plain fudge, rum and raisin fudge, lemon fudge, cherry fudge …”

“My favourites,” sighed Tony happily.

“And she made some of her Christmas cookies,” continued Gibbs, “And she made some cheese ones this time.  I might have hinted to her that you preferred savoury ones.”

“Thanks, Boss, that means a lot,” said Tony.

“And I brought some of my home-made jerky,” said Gibbs.

Tony looked even happier but then had a worrying thought, “It’s not the earthworm one again, is it?”

“Nah,” said Gibbs, “That didn’t work out too well.  No, this is beef.  I tried a new marinade, be interested to know if you like it.”

“Bound to,” said Tony simply, “You know what I like.  Although I’ll admit that the earthworm rocked my confidence a little.”

“Know better next time,” acknowledged Gibbs.  “And what about …”

“Patsy’s Pastry Paradise!” said Tony putting emphasis on all the Ps, “Has come up trumps!  Christmas Meringues for you and Tantalising Truffles for me and …”

“And …?” asked Gibbs leaning forward.

“Chocolate Cream Cherubs for both of us.”

“Aww,” said Gibbs as he looked in the box, “They’re so cute …”

“Almost too good to eat,” said Tony reflectively.

“Yes,” agreed Gibbs still in awe of the confectioner’s artistry.

“Almost,” said Tony as he and Gibbs each took a cherub and bit the heads off.

Satisfied that they had listed all the goodies, Gibbs and Tony filled their plates with food and collected their preferred drinks.

“Oh, I brought some celery and carrot crudités,” said Tony as an afterthought.

“Good thought,” said Gibbs approvingly as he took a single carrot and munched it, “Ducky’d be pleased that we’re eating vegetables.

Tony nodded in agreement as he took a tiny celery stick, “Absolutely, got to eat from all the food groups.  I learned that as part of my phys-ed degree.”

Gibbs nodded wisely and picked up an enormous sandwich, “Although it is Christmas,” he observed, “No need to go overboard with the vegetables.”

“They’ll keep,” said Tony.

There was silence for a time as the duo ate with concentration but as their stomachs filled, they began to chat once more.

“I like the smell, Boss,” observed Tony as he pointed to the essential oil infusers.

“I thought cedarwood and nutmeg would work,” said Gibbs modestly.

“They do,” assured Tony, “And what’s that other scent?” he asked, wrinkling his nose slightly.

“Frankincense,” said Gibbs, “I thought it was appropriate.

“It is … after all we are two of the wise men!”

“I think it has a harmonious effect,” said Gibbs.

“Absolutely,” said Tony dreamily, “It makes me feel serene … and spiritual … hmm, I think I’ll just have another piece of that salted caramel fudge … and one of those chocolate cherubs …”

“It is Christmas,” said Gibbs indulgently.

“You’re getting good at those essential oils, Boss,” said Tony, “You can really set an atmosphere.”

“Thanks, Tony, that means a lot coming from you,” said Gibbs.  He looked embarrassed for a moment, “In fact, I’ve been thinking …”

“Yes, Boss?” said Tony encouragingly.

“I was thinking that when I retire … not yet, of course …”

“Of course not …”

“I might set up a business doing that sort of thing.  You know Carlo …”

“The Feng Shui master?”

“That’s the one.  He’s taught me a lot, he thinks I have potential.”

“I think you’ve got a real gift, Boss.  Seems like a great idea.”

“Thank you, Tony.”

“Where are you going for your post-Christmas break, Boss?”

“I’m going to bury myself in my basement and drown my sorrows in bourbon,” said Gibbs solemnly.

“No, really Boss.  What you gonna do?”

“You don’t think _I’m going to drink to relieve the burden of my Messiah complex_?” asked Gibbs with a hint of disappointment.

“Nah, not so much,” said Tony, “Despite what McAuthor put in his book!”

“I guess,” said Gibbs, “No, I’m going on a retreat.”

“A retreat?”

“My knee’s been playing up,” said Gibbs, “I need an intensive aromatherapy session to sort it out, but …”

“But if you do it while you’re at work even the Probies will smell the difference,” concluded Tony.

“Yeah.  I mean, I could bluff my way through it, but I want to relax and enjoy the experience of all those massages at the health spa.”

Tony nodded approvingly, “Good for you, Boss.  And you might pick up some tips for when you set up your own business.  Where’s the spa?”

“There’s a place in Miami– health spa along with mindfulness and tranquillity.  Sounds wonderful.”

“They might want you to eat vegetables … and fruit,” warned Tony.

“I’ll get around that,” said Gibbs decisively.  Tony had no doubt that he would.  “Hey,” said Gibbs, “We’ll both be down South for our breaks.”

“What?”

“Well, that turkey taco and tinsel treat extravaganza – it’s in Florida somewhere, isn’t it?” said Gibbs innocently.

“Tallahassee,” said Tony a little sulkily.

“We could go together,” said Gibbs keeping a straight face.

“You know we couldn’t,” said Tony.

“Oh, you mean you’re not going on a turkey taco and tinsel treat extravaganza?”

“As you well know!  I am the master of misdirection,” Tony paused as he observed Gibbs’ raised sceptical eyebrow, “Well, for most people,” he acknowledged.  “No, I’m going to Rome.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, with one of my fraternity brothers …”

“Bit early for Spring Break,” commented Gibbs.

“Dr Adolphus Briggs is leading an excavation of a newly discovered site,” said Tony excitedly.

“And you’re going to help?” said Gibbs, entirely unsurprised.

“Turns out that training to work crime scenes works well for archaeological digs,” said Tony, “I know all about marking where I find things and delicate handling.”

“And?” pressed Gibbs.

“And,” said Tony a little reluctantly, “It will help me with writing the final part of my thesis …”

“Towards getting your Masters …” prompted Gibbs.

“In ancient Roman artefacts: their use and significance,” muttered Tony.

“To the master of misdirection,” said Gibbs raising his mug of chocolate with whipped cream.

“Takes one to know one,” replied Tony.

“And another toast,” said Gibbs.

“To two-man-team Christmas Day,” said Tony.

“The best day of the year,” sighed Gibbs.

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently you really can get earthworm jerky!
> 
> Happy Christmas everyone … I don’t own the NCIS characters and have managed to squeeze them, slightly fatter after my ministrations, back into their box.


End file.
